


The Meeting

by OtterPot (orphan_account)



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Light BDSM, Smut, rumpy pumpy, slight non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:43:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2709362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/OtterPot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alya works hard; but her position isn't as satisfying as it once was. As last pitch effort to keep her on the payroll, her boss sends to her to a meeting. With the one and only Tom Hiddleston.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say? I have a thing for Villain!Tom for sure.

Alya could taste her disgust; its vile, turgid flavor spreading as she watched her business partners ‘enjoying’ the entertainment.

What a pack of rodents, she thought to herself.

She and her cohorts had arrived at the classy Vildave, the ‘it’ location for London’s most sinister. The CEO of their company was intent on dipping his fingers into some fresh cream, lurking around for more fools to swindle. But these men were no fools, Alya knew that. In the beginning, she was only apprehensive. Now, she was wound tighter than the E-string of a violin. Her legs crossed in her long, tight black skirt and she sat with her spine ram rod straight, her father’s advice repeating in her head.

Sit like a Queen, speak like a killer. She loved her father more than words could describe. A wise and hard-working man.

But these men, oh these men, they were not wise. They laughed boisterously at the girls that perched on their laps, leaning forward to give them more than a glance of what they had to sell. They were hardly here to strike a bargain and Alya was only ordered to go along as a last pitch effort to keep her on their payroll; she was desperate to leave, to find better work. But the pay was too good. 

Alya’s eyes narrowed as she watched six men approach the table, one of which the head of the most infamous crime syndicates in recent decades. Tom Hiddleston; she knew him by name and by his trademark crimson tie. 

Alya turned to Scott, the man swigging his beer to her left. “Put that down and pay attention.”

“Oh, Aly, come on. Tonight is a night for the men!” He snorted and pushed her untouched whiskey closer to her place setting. “Drink up and let us men talk.”

Her nails bit deep into the arms of the leather seat at the filthy nickname and turned her attention back to Mr. Hiddleston as he took his seat, his eyes not leaving her.

“So,” Scott began, “Our Boss wants us to extend an invitation to you gents.”

As the men settled in to listen, Tom only held up his hand, commanding silence and lifting his chin to Alya.

“Miss Kurcheck, I believe.” Oh fuck, she shuddered slightly, and his sharp eyes didn’t miss it.

“You were the one to deliver the terms of this meeting. Am I to assume that these men here speak for you?”

Alya opened her mouth to respond but Scott cut her off with a loud scoff. “No way, Aly is here as a courtesy to you gentlemen. A… gift from our esteemed boss.”

Now that had Alya’s mouth dropping open. Scott gave her a sharp look before finishing his beer and throwing a file on the table. To Alya’s dismay, Tom leaned forward, his eyes narrowing in on the line of flesh shown beneath the crop of her fitted top, the lines of her tattoo peaking out and clearly drawing his scrutiny.

“A gift.” Tom deadpanned, awaiting explanation.

Don’t just sit there, SPEAK! 

“Yes!” Alya proclaimed a bit louder than necessary, earning a glare from Scott and the other two partners and Toms full attention.

“Our Higher-ups decided it was best that my skills be put to better use.” Alya was wracking her brain for something good, something that would get her out of whatever Scott and her boss were thinking of making her provide otherwise.

“Go on.” Tom urged, his voice dropping slightly.

All eyes were on her, so Alya sat forward, lighted her chin, and spoke as if this was her purpose.

“From our recent communications you must be aware that Hale Corp is a growing entity; our stock is worth quite a bit at the moment, but no one wants to make an investment due to the implications of it gaining too much influence in the market as well as too much power among other smaller moguls.”

“Not that you’re part of that-” Scott tried to jump in.

“Quiet.” Alya snapped, earning an appraising smirk from Tom. “I’m the best at what I do and quite frankly Hale Corp isn’t providing a challenge. It would be beneficial to utilize a possible exchange of services for both parties.”

Tom sat back, his eyes still focused on Alya and she suddenly felt self-conscious for only putting her hair in a long braid. His sharp cheekbones and thinned lips in the low light made him look menacing; enough so that she wondered how other women faired against him.

For the love of God, take this deal, she begged internally before continuing.

“In exchange for my transfer to your organization you will be allotted a controlling fraction of Hale Corps stock in the investment department, allowing you access to any resources you deem necessary you’re your expansion. At which point you have invested over 85% of the assets given to you, Hale Corp will become an official backer to you and your affiliates in return for specific services befitting the Board.”

Alya sat there, absorbing the shocked gazed from her partners, the silence of the whole room, her own personal anxiety from straying completely from the deal in the file, and finally, the intense look on Tom Hiddleston’s face. His long finger grazed the stubble on his chin as he began to grin, a chuckle building in his chest.

“Well that’s not at all what your partners sent to me in the communicae.”

“What the fuck Alya!” Scott hissed at her, but she didn’t turn to look.

She was too focused on the burning stare coming from those icy eyes, nestled in sharp cheeks and hoisted high on broad shoulders. She returned his gaze with equal ferocity, struggling to not let the façade of confidence fail.

“You gentlemen may leave.” Tom waved at Scott and the others, his men moving towards the doors as well. “The Miss and I shall have words.” Tom’s voice dropped again and its timbre made Alya think that perhaps words weren’t exactly what he had in mind.

Scott and the two others protested before being dragged out, leaving Alya and Tom in silence; for a couple beats, Alya felt her nerves begin to calm only to come back alive as Tom scooted away from the cherry-stained table. His eyes took slow measure of her posture, she noticed, trailing from the scarlet of her nails, the gold wrapped around her wrists, the black of her fitted crop sweater and long, tight, black skirt. She paid special to attention at his deep rumble of approval as he noticed the lines of her ink in more detail.

Tom finally broke the silence. “Alya, my, my, my. You have turned out to be quite interesting.” Alya’s eyes followed him as he circled her, stalking her, careful to not swivel her head.

“How so?” she prompted, with a cocked brow, shaking slightly as he passed behind her and out of view.

“I shall call a car,” he said more to himself, “but I would like to take your deal. And I find myself rather peckish. Come along.”

His hands were the only thing to come into view as he reach down, gestured for her to stand, and began to pull the chair away. Alya barely had time to stand completely straight before the chair was thrown to the side, a shriek tearing for her as she was slammed forward onto the wood of the table with her arms yanked behind her.

“What are you doing?” She cried, thrashing before Tom threw his weight on her and growling as the metal and leather from about his hips was slipped away.

The stiff material was wound quickly and tightened around her wrists before Tom viciously flipped her onto her back, ripping her skirt up the side in the process, and pushed himself between her legs.

“Oh, I’ve had my eye on you for a long time, my dear.” He snarled down at her and wound one hand behind her to yank hard on her braid, exposing the cords of her throat. “I will certainly take your bargain, and fortunately for you, I prefer to seal my agreements using something far more powerful than a pen and paper.”

Alya grit her teeth at the strain on her neck and jerked against him before throwing him a foul sneer. “I will not be your flavor of the week, you pig.” 

Her venomous words had no impact save for the spreading grin on Toms face, his white teeth gnashing in delight; a wolf who’s caught the moon he howls at.

“Pig. Oh that’s rich. You stay with Hale Corp for the money; but I will have you. You will have more than enough zeros on your paycheck and I shall have your talents. A perfect bargain.” His breath washed over Alya's face before he dipped his chin, nipping at her jaw sharply before spreading hot kisses along the flesh of her neck.

“Get off!” Alya cried out, desperation and her embarrassing arousal beginning to leak into her bravado.

Tom only chuckled and using the hand not twined in her braid, yanked her sweater up and over her plump breasts, exposing the soft meat that sat perched in dark lace. Alya had no time to protest before his teeth bit down through the material on her pert nipple, pulling a satisfying yelp from her. He groaned loud and deep as he palmed her other breast, her hot flesh making him harder than when he heard her commanding the fool she arrived with. With a smack he brought his mouth away from her chest and descended on her mouth; her smooth lips parted leaving Tom more than enough time to thrust his tongue into her mouth, tasting a spicy sweet flavor, completely her own.

No words passed from either of them; Tom was so focused on how long he had waited for her. His free hand ran down her side, her warm skin smooth to the touch, before dipping down to cup her hot center. As his fingers made contact through her panties, Alya jerked hard; Tom groaned hard before pulling away, leaving the woman beneath him breathless and heaving. His strong hands pulled her legs farther apart before reaching toward the crotch of her stockings, tearing hard and watching in satisfaction as Alya’s knees twitched upward, apprehension clear on her blushed face.

“I am going to enjoy you; make you cry on my cock,” Alya’s breath caught at his filthy words and watched under hooded lids as he undid his trouser. “You will be mine in all ways. And I have many things I wish to try.”

Alya opened her mouth to respond, only to her shame, to release a long groan as Tom slid his fingers beneath her panties and into the wet heat of her sex. His long digits dipped into the nectar of her arousal, with his other palming his erection as he pulled it out, his chest heaving at the illustrious sight before him. A women of unimaginable intellect, quick on her feet, and raised with propriety, mewling like an age old lover made just for him.

Tom couldn’t help the smile that spread over his mouth as he directed the head of his cock to her wet center; her spicy scent wafting in the air and drawing him in, begging him to take his satisfaction and her provide her more. As the head pressed tight against her entrance, Tom drew in a breath, shaking in excitement.

“Tom.” Alya breathed his name, and God, it was like poetry to him.

“Say it again” He whispered down at her.

He pressed hard this time, the slight pop of her muscles surrounding his cock making Alya’s eyes screw shut and Tom shudder.

“T-Tom.” Alya obeyed immediately, eager to feel more of his heat within her.

Tom groaned and dipped deep, taking his time feeling her velvety core slid over the meat of his cock; no one would ever have her but him.

“Again.” He ordered, now taking quicker and longer strokes and changing his grip on her hair to the dip of her waist, holding tight like a vice.

His breath was coming in hot puffs as he found a strong and steady pace, gnashing his teeth every time Alya obeyed his order to call his name. Wet squelches and gasps filled the air, making the table shake, and Alya felt blinded by him. His cock stretched her, filled her; his grip on her waist commanding yet not painful and his playful nips conveyed more of his taunting nature.

“Say it-” Tom rolled his hips especially deep, grinding his pelvis down on her clit. “Again.” He growled with finality on the last long stroke.

“Tom!” Alya cried long and loud, rolling her hips in return and bathing in his lascivious groan.

With stronger thrusts and a tightened grip, Tom went at her. “Oh, you love it!” His voice rang through his teeth, the wet smack of their sexes making him twitch with his need to cum. But he would make her cum first; as ladies always should. His frosty eyes trailed down to watch to activity of where they were joined; he watch in rapt fascination as he could literally see the tightness of her muscles moving along his cock, coating his hot meat in her slick pleasure. Her groans and pre-ogasmic clenching made her look a wanton mess, so Tom thrust harder. 

“Yes! Oh, Fuck!” Tom snarled.

He wrapped his arm beneath her back, taking control of her weight, pulling her hard onto his cock as he beat into her. Her cries made him shudder, and with a final burst of energy, bit down on Alya’s neck, slamming hard into her cunt, rolling and grinding as they both felt the first flutter of her muscles clenching down on him. “Tom!” She wailed with shrill ecstasy; each following stroke, each groan and mewl, her cunt pulled harder at his cock, drawing him in before she jerked violently, crying out loud and long as Tom snarled and felt his heavy sac tense; then there was bliss. The heat of her cunt gripped him hard and he bellowed his release as a hot fire spread through them both, dragging them deep into their orgasms. Tom could barely stand as he throbbed in her, spilling his burning seed in to her hungry cunt.

“Yes,” Tom sighed, exalted with the strength of their simultaneous release.

Alya’s mind was fuzzy, bright lights danced in her eyes, and she whimpered as Tom pulled himself from her, but kept his hand on her back to pull her up towards him, resting her on his own torso.

“Now,” he gasped, “I shall call a car. You are to move out of your office, and your belongings are being packed as we speak.”

Alya frowned as she heaved against his chest, her arms straining as he reached to release her hands. “Packed?”

“You are moving, a new penthouse downtown,” he replied, his breath coming back to him. “I’ll not have you among the rabble; a woman of your wealth.”

Alya chuckled as the strain on her shoulders was relieved, Tom’s fingers gently urging the muscles to relax. She wondered vaguely if this was how he always treated his girls.  
“You need rest. Allow me to show you to your new home.”

“I need a guide?” She asked, looking up at him from under her lashes, and Tom’s heart squeezed in appreciation.

“You need support, lest you’re certain you can walk.” He grinned down at her.

“You certainly have faith in your skills.” Alya quipped, before sliding off the table, righting herself, and sliding her arm into his to be led away.


End file.
